


where the weed decays

by okayantigone



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Past Abuse, Sexual Abuse (mention), Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 12:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayantigone/pseuds/okayantigone
Summary: killua is absolutely not thrilled about hisoka and illumi's upcoming wedding, which is really more of a hisoka v kikyou deathmatch of wills over the flower arrangements and the color of the china.he only accompanies hisoka into town because gon is going.and of course, things can't ever just be nice. not even once.now killua is somewhere unfamiliar, held by people he doesn't know, with nothing but the hope that hisoka holds out until illumi saves him.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 19
Kudos: 103





	where the weed decays

**Author's Note:**

> blergh whatever  
it' sunfinished, its unbeta-d idk when the next chapter is,  
im just depressed and want ur clicks, kudos and comments

killua was really trying his best not to sour the whole mood. he absolutely and genuinely was. because the mood was.. well. buoyant was a good word for it. how could it not be, when the two single-handedly smiliest people in the entire world were present. gon he could tolerate - no. gon, he  _ adored _ \- he was skipping cheerily and chattering away. hisoka, on the other hand… 

hisoka just gave him the creeps, and it wasn't just the aftereffect of illumi's needle. despite his current pleasant disposition, killua knew illumi well enough to know that anyone his brother was marrying was a stone cold killer and twisted violent sadist, and no amount of makeup, shiny jewelry  _ or  _ gon's good opinion could ever hope to change that. 

and gon, for whatever infernal reason, had a  _ good  _ opinion of hisoka. had a good opinion of the  _ wedding.  _ gon was generally just a positive person, who got excited easily, and was quick to smile at all times. but for some reason killua was still taken aback at gon's read eagerness to be simply  _ excited  _ for illumi and hisoka to tie the knot. he viewed it as an opportunity for killua to mend the bridges he'd burned with his family, and to his absolute dismay, alluka was  _ not  _ on his side about it either. because apparently, illumi had been telling her stories about hisoka, long before killua had found out about them (which was the day of the engagement party, because of course it was. everyone had just simply assumed he  _ knew.  _ apparently  _ gon _ had known since the hunter exam. damn it.) 

and alluka had heard all of illumi's stories about the handsome magician who made him laugh, and so she was just all too goddamn  _ delighted  _ to be a flower girl at the wedding, and milluki, the traitor that he was, had suddenly changed his tune about gay marriage now that his  _ more favorite  _ brother was stepping into one. and kalluto was… not actively opposing, which was just as good as supporting it.    
  
but the biggest betrayal of all - his mother had taken the whole situation in stride, and let illumi deputize half the butlers to organize the event of the century, with her only demand being full veto power over the guest list. and so, killua had lost his only possible ally in the batlte against accepting hisoka into the family, and was tagging along with him and gon to… do something. wedding related, though he hadn't paid attention. apparently illumi had ditched hisoka with the flower arrangements at the last minute, and gon had eagerly stepped in, because he knew flower language, like the sweet, wonderful village child he was, and since gon was going, killua was going also. with a laundry list of things to get from the city while he was at it, no less. his mother was craving some weird imported chocolate with chilli peppers in it. if she was pregnant again, he was taking off for the dark continent. he'd been told under strict confidence by milluki and illumi, that apprently the mood swings she'd had him and alluka and kalluto had been lethal. literally. 

so gon was chattering to hisoka about flowers, and the color scheme, and what he thought of when he thought of illumi, and killua instinctively tuned the answer out, because he did  _ not  _ want to know what the pervert clown thought of his brother. he was more preoccupied with wondering if he could use hisoka's good will towards gon to get invited to tag along when they would be trying the cake flavors for the reception. 

he wasn't thinking. very clearly, he was not thinking. he was lulled into security - he was in his own damn hometown, with one of the most terrifying people he knew, so it's not like he could be blamed for it. 

he didn't even notice the black van circling around until it came into his peripheral vision. 

"get behind me, gon-kun, killua-kun," hisoka's voice carried that soft smooth drawl, but there was a tighntess there, as he pulled killua back to his other side.    
  
"anything i can do for you, gentlement?" 

killua had seen professional hits up close and personal before. only usually, he was the one executing them. and right now, he did not like standing on the other side.    
  
"you come with us, and the kids don't get hurt," one of the men now surrounding them said. killua could probably take four out, without using his nen. if hisoka took four more, that would leave two for gon. and everyone gets home in time for high tea with grandma. (she and hisoka, annoyingly, got on like a house on fire. killua had never realized his grandmother had gypsy blood, and apparently spoke the same dialect hisoka had been raised with. they traded legends back and forth and it was  _ infuriating).  _

"sure, sure," hisoka said brightly. killua could follow the motion of the playing card appearing in his hand. probably, he thought he could take the men on more easily if gon and killua weren't in his way. gon - well, okay, fair enough. but killua? that was just insulting. he could take care of his own damn self, thank you very much. 

[who the hell knows how to write an actin scene. whatever. NEXT]

it was in that split second moment - when he took the step forward, and hisoka, for a fraction of a second turned a warning look at him - that the dart hit his neck. 

he woke up in darkness. 

his mouth is dry, and his eyes sting. he feels goosebumps all over, the tell-tale signs of having been dozed with something sleep-inducing. his head hurts, but it's not a lot. he blinks and tries to orient himself. the floor is concrete. there's a an iron grate that's separating the room - cell? - from the rest of the space. it's either basement, or sub-terrain, and he can taste moisture in the air - near a river, or a beach, probably. he blinks again. it's dim - the only light is natural, coming from a window. he can't tell how much time has passed, but when the light changes, he will be able to guess by the movement of the sun, and probably map out the direction. 

okay then. time to set about getting out. he stands up, and his head spins like he's just had his brian rattled around his skull. he feels his meager rbeakfast come up. okay then. he sits back down with a dull thud, and puts his head beneath his knees, working to even his breathing. what the  _ hell  _ was on that dart? 

he makes a second attempt at standing up, using the wall for support. they've taken his shoes, like he hasn't been practicing walking on any surface since he was… well… practicing walking. he wraps his arm around one of the metal bars and peers into the area outside of them. hisoka is… honestly not looking that great. he either fought, or got roughed up on the way here… wherever here is supposed to be. he's slumped in a heavy pile, laying on his side, and killua can make out the side of his face, where his makeup is smudged, his lip swollen, split. the fingers of his extended arm are bent the wrong way. he is either still unconscious, or pretending to be. he's not dead, because killua can make out the slight movement of his silent inhales and exhales.

right now, that's an extremely reassuring thought. he still can't believe the sheer audacity - getting grabbed practically in his front yard - absolutely unbelievable. the absolute gall - wow. he sounds like mother. 

  1. mother. as soon as she finds out, she wlll be _furious. _and with killua's luck, illumi has put a tracker or something in either him and hisoka. nevermind his previous plan about getting out. if they just sit tight, in a day or two tops, they'll be out without lifting a finger. well. alright then. 

he settles in a meditative stance, and closes his eyes. he might as well get some training in. 

and that's when he realizes what should have been painfully obvious from the start. his nen is not… is not…  _ there.  _ it's just…  _ gone.  _ it's like using his zetsu, but worse. there's an absence. and that… now  _ that  _ worries him. because if illumi  _ has  _ actually put a tracker in him, or hisoka, chances are it's one of his needles, which needs nen to work. and if someone has tampered with his or hisoka's nen… then maybe they aren't getting out so soon after all. 

he forces his breathing into an easy pattern, and counts his breaths. this factors in around the difficulty of a training exercise. and he'd gotten out of captivity before  _ without  _ the use of his nen. he once tore through at least fifty of illumi's needle people to break out of a warehouse building, and that was when he was  _ five.  _ he can get out of here no problem. and call it a hunch, but hisoka can probably commit gruesome murder without nen too. it's not like bungee gum and texture surprise are terrible offensive techniques. 

  1. breathing again. he looks at hisoka's unconscious form. oh, illu-nii is going to be _pissed. _whoever idiot is behind this, royally miscalculated. getting illumi's _fiancee and his favorite younger sibling_? these guys are in all probablity dead, and just don't know it. 

and though he's  _ always, always  _ resented being counted as illumi's favorite, right now it's a bit of a comfort. a lot of things that shouldn't be are comforts. he's just glad gon isn't here with them. if gon got away, he's probably warned his family by now. 

it's a waiting game. 

he countr sixty times sixty twice over before hisoka finally stirs. his movements are careful, sluggish. when his eyes finally open, the gold is dull, hazy. he raises himself up on elbows and knees, and stays in that position for a while, his hair falling over his face. he clears his throat, spits out a mixture of blood and saliva, and slowly raises until he's kneeling, his hands laid over his knees. he does the same slow survey of the room killua had started with, until his eyes land on killua. then he winks, and smiles, and with one sudden, sharp movement realigns his fingers into their proper position, stands up, and brushes all the dust of his trousers. he runs a hand through his hair to push it away from his face. 

killua…  _ stares.  _

hisoka has  _ freckles.  _

there's also a thin pale scar over his throat, and his arms… well. he'd always assumed somethign was afoot, when hisoka showed no damage after his fight with kastro. and now he knew why - somehow, he'd been hiding them, but the scars -thick white, and rope-like - were there. his smiling expression dropped when he followed killua's gaze to his arm, his brows knitting into a frown.    
  
"well, that's unsightly," he said lightly, and covered it with his hand, angling his body so his other arm was out of killua's eyesight. was hisoka… no. bullshit.  _ of course,  _ he was vain. 

"so who'd you piss off?" killua asks, breaking the silence. the guy in black had wanted hisoka, after all. 

"would you believe me if i told you i have no idea?" 

"yeah, actually." killa rolled his eyes. murderous airhead. he and illumi were  _ made _ for each other. bleh. 

"the real question is, gon," hisoka says, "who did  _ you _ piss off?" 

he looks at killua meaningfully, stressing gon's name. 

did they… did they take him, thinking he was gon? 

"could this have something to do with…" he had to make sure that's what hisoka was implying. "ging?" 

"yes, it't possible that this is about your father," hisoka said. he was smiling pleasantly. right. so. someone thought they had hisoka and gon on their hands, so killua zoldyck hadn't been the target. hisoka sat back down carefully, mirroring killua's sitting position.    
  
"any brilliant ideas then, gon-kun?" 

killua looked around the room again. "were you conscious when we came in?" 

hisoka's smile was extremely pleasant. "oh, absolutely. and i can tell you, this is an evil lair of some quality. the nen-dampening extends all the way through the building - i stopped feeling mine as soon as we got in." 

_ fuck.  _ "nice." 

"do  _ you  _ have any brilliant ideas, then?" 

hisoka shook his head. and that - that was  _ not  _ a good thing. because if he had seen where they were brought in and didn't think they could make it out on their own… well. waiting for rescue it was. 

"are you cold?" hisoka asked after a while. 

killua shook his head, and they lapsed into silence again. they'd knocked him out, but taken their time to rough hisoka up. what gives? 

if they really thought he was gon freecss, it was possible this was a ransom situation, but then, why take hisoka? who out there would have a grudge against the both of them simultaneously, but not killua specifically? 

unless it was someone who had a grudge against the three of them collectively, and didn't want to piss his family off by taking  _ him.  _ the next best thing would be to take gon and hurt him. but he hadn't been hurt. just hisoka. and hisoka had no idea why they were in this situation either. 

"did you get some foreign royalty pregnant? abandon someone at the altar? do people think i'm your secret lovechild? now's the time to fess up," killua said.    
  
"i'm about to be a happily married man. i assure you that - " 

whatever he was about to say next got interrupted by the screech of the heavy steel door dragging over the concrete floor, as four men stepped in. heavy set, rough-faced.  _ beaters, not brains.  _ killua thought. 

the fist landed centrally in hisoka's smiling face. killua could do very little besides watch as they extremely slowly and methodically pummeled the shit out of hisoka. they didn't ask any questions, just beat the crap out of him. two of them held him up, while the third one took his time landing punches on various places on his body. 

the fourth one stood by the door, guarding.    
  
"don't kill him," he warned, "we need him alive." 

"i know, i know." 

the two had dropped hisoka back to the floor, and one of them was now grinding his boot into hisoka's already ruined hand. it was just business as usual, then. they probably did this eevery day. 

killua was not particularly moved one way, or the other. hisoka could take it - was taking it. 

"hey kid," the one at the door said. "you hungry?" 

killua shrugged vaguely. he caught the snack bar the guy tossed between the bars effortlessly. 

"the hell are you doing -" 

"we need this one in good condition. you can't be against feeding him." 

"yeah, yeah. should probably bring him some water too, when we get back. 

"who is he again?" 

"his dad's some sort of big deal with the hunters. what's it matter? we can do wahtever with the clown so - " 

the door slammed shut behind them. hisoka rose, very slowly and painstakingly, on all fours, but there was obvious effort in the pose, his arms trembling with it. 

killua bit into the snack bar.    
  
"what's the damage?" 

hisoka rasped something out, spat blood out, and tried again. "ribs. teeth. fingers, ankles…. all parts of my body i'm generally… generally fond of." 

"good thing illumi doesn't expect kids from you - he kicked you in the family jewels what - ten times?" 

"more," hisoka had slumped back against the wall, and he turned his bloodied face towards killua. his left hand was completely useless now, but he used the right one to set his nose again. "good thing i'm marrying into money, i'll have to lay under the knife to get this fixed." 

killua rolled his eyes. the snack bar tasted bland and un-tampered with. 

"shouldn't you be in too much pain to be a smartass?" 

"pain? not- not really. it's mostly the rib thing - can't… breathe very well." 

that… that was concerning. "do you think it's punctured?" 

"i think we'd both know if it was punctured." 

true enough. definitely true enough. 

killua had seen people die from a punctured lung. he'd caused people to die from a punctured lung. the idea that he might have to … to what? sit here, behind the bars, and watch hisoka drown in his own blood in front of him - probably still smiling … it was a terrible idea. he could see hisoka get the shit kicked out of him - and enjoy it too. but the idea that hisoka might actually die - 

"you heard them. they don't want to kill me," hisoka said, cheerily. "i must have pissed someone off very much." he sounds so damn excited about it, and killua can guess it's because he's already plotting his terrible, terrible revenge. 

"catch," he says, instead of responding, and slides the half-eaten snack bar across the floor. it picks up some dirt and dust along the way, and lands against hisoka's thigh. he picks it up between carefully manicured fingers and gives killua a bloodied grin.    
  
"bon-apetit!" the whole thing disappears in his mouth in one bite. he licks his lips.    
  
"do you think they'll have fun starving me out?" he sounds almost excited. 

killua has to be honest here - "probably." 

"fun." 

"no," killua says. "not fun. being starved- not fun." 

god, can hisoka stop being weird for one goddamn second and take the possibility of his impending torture seriously? killua's  _ had  _ torture training. he knows what starving feels like. 

"oh," hisoka says, still cheery. "i know. but since it will only be for a short time, i'm not terribly worried." there's an unspoken  _ yet  _ there, and killua wonders when hisoka starved. he supposes, he doesn't really know that much about him after all. gon probably knows. or his grandma, when she and hisoka gossiped about growing up in the travelling caravans to god knows where, buttfuck yorbian continent. 

the light outside  _ is  _ changing, getting darker. it must be evening now, which makes sense. they got taken around noon-time. 

hisoka shifts a little, leaning his shoulder hard into the wall, like it's going to budge for him. "gon-kun, i'm going to take a little nap, okay? be a good boy and wake me up every couple hours or so, they really rattled my brain around," 

then his eyes flutter closed. killua sighs. it makes sense for him to stay awake. he was unconscious longer. he starts counting to sixty. when he's done it sixty times twice over, he calls hisoka's name, until the older man stirs. he gives him an evil look, gold eyes blazing. then the look dampens, as though he's just realized where he is. he smiles, that bright fake stretch of grin that he uses as his default expression around people.    
  
"you should get some sleep now. i think i've gotten enough." 

killua nods once, curtly, and unfurls from his lotus position. his legs are covered in pins and needles. he crawls into the corner of his cell, putting his back against the wall, curls up in the fetal position, putting his arms over his head, and wills himself to sleep. 

he wakes up to a horrible sound. the sound of someone drowning, or being drowned, coughing and spluttering and ragged gasps for air, and the sound of water hitting the floor. his eyes fly open, but he forces his body into stillness, peeking through the gap between his arms. 

the guards are back. they've got hisoka on his knees, restrained, his head covered with a towel, and they're - 

he shuts his eyes, and then opens them again. even hisoka's impossible tolerance for pain, and iron clad self-posession are nothing in the face of the body's desperation to survive. he is thrashing between the two guards that are gripping his shoulders, his wet hacking terrible and loud, as it bounces off the walls. killua feels his own throat closing up. 

he's had  _ training.  _ he  _ knows _ what this feels like. and they don't even  _ want  _ anything. they don't take the towel off, and shake hisoka, shouting questions in his face. they're just… enjoying this. enjoying doing it to him. he can't look away. he can't breathe. hisoka can't breathe. 

it seems to go on for hours. 

and when they finally stop, and let hisoka slump on the floor in a heap of wet magician, giving him a few surrepitious kicks with their steel-toed boots, it's almost a relief. almost as an afterthought, they roll a plastic bottle of water between the bars of his own cell. he pretends he's still asleep until he hears the door slam shut, and then jumps to his feet, running to the bars. hisoka is too far to reach. he is breathing - short ragged gasps of breath, so at least that's something. 

he picks the plastic bottle up. they've peeled off the label. smart. but he doesn't need a label to guess the location. it's shaped like a figure eight, with a green cap, and a distinct fishtail pattern in the plastic itself. it's a padokean brand of mineral water, so they haven't left the country. and since they're near water, they must be closer to heaven's arena, than they are to kukuroo mountain. okay. so what the hell is taking illumi so long? 

_ favorite sibling my ass,  _ killua thinks.  _ you should be here by now.  _

it feels like forever until hisoka's breathing evens out from the miserable rasping, but he doesn't move from the wet puddle on the floor. he lay there, shivering.    
  
"hey," killua tries, quietly. hisoka doesn't move. "hisoka," he repeats, a little louder.    
  


hisoka hums in acknolwedgment. "'s my name," he slurs. he sounds like his mouth is still full of water. or blood. or swollen in the place where he lost teeth yesterday. 

killua wants - unreasonably, stupidly - to be closer to him, on the other side of the bars. it's not like he could  _ do  _ anything. he doesn't really have first aid training - he's never  _ needed  _ it. but he could - what? touch hisoka - reassure himself hisoka is still alive. they're not hurting  _ him  _ yet, but honestly, anyone who'd do this sort of thing, probably doesn't have all that many qualms about doing them to a child. and killua hasn't thought of himself as a child in a very long time. he knows, rationally, that he's not that old. thirteen is - well. still ateenager. most kids his age are in school. 

he's definitely played up his youth factor on missions, to get nice old ladies to trust him and invite him home, so he can slice their husbands' throats open. he may have to lean into it now. unless that's what these guys are  _ into.  _ because it beating the shit out of hisoka and waterboearding him is business as usual for them… then what the  _ hell  _ constitutes as  _ fun?  _

he'd had the talk. he'd had an extremely flustered biology tutor explaining everything to him. dear lord. he'd also had the "people in general aren't nice" talk from his mother, one of the few times he'd genuinely listened to her, when she'd warned him about older people with bad intentions. a warning that his father had sternly seconded, and illumi thirded, and the milluki fouthed.    
  
"you can watch me do a dark web job if you don't believe me that people like that exist, sometime," milluki had said.  _ dark web jobs,  _ he called them. the location of certain … materials, which he tracked down and destroyed, before deploying drones to take down the owners and distributers of said materials. silva called them milluki's "pro bono" cases, like their family was some sort of fucked up legal representation firm. 

killua very badly did not want to find out if this was going to become one of milluki's pro-bonos. in fact, he very badly wanted to be out of here already. 


End file.
